


lams oneshots!

by historicalbastards



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Alexander Hamilton - Ron Chernow, American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Fluff, Hurt, M/M, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:40:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26901544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/historicalbastards/pseuds/historicalbastards
Summary: just oneshots, if you wanna request feel free to!
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	1. modeling: [fluff].

John sat back in the farthest chair from everyone in the studio. He silently observed his colleagues as they chatted and how some got ready for their next shoot.

Modeling. Not something John was very keen of and was unfortunately roped into it due to his ex-boyfriend, being a pretty popular face within the modeling industry, and pretty much all of New York.

Once he and Francis broke up, John pretty much expected things to go back to normal. Then again, he dated a literal celebrity and there's not really going back from that experience.

Granted, he owns up to that mistake.

The almost empty water bottle crackled in his hand, and it was nothing more than creases. The blond stared across the room, almost completely lost in his own world. His eyes unfocused on nothing.

"John!" A voice called. He could recognize that voice from anywhere.

John turned his head, smiling at his photographer.

"Gilbert—What's up?" John questioned, standing from his chair.

"Have you seen Alexander? He was supposed to be here thirty minutes ago, and has yet to show." Gilbert groaned, turning his phone to his friend to show all the texts that had been sent to his colleague.

"I know you two are close and I figured you'd know where he was."

John's eyebrows creased.

"Yeah, we talked last night. He's fine. We were up pretty late last night on call. 'M sure he just slept in late s'all."

Gilbert held his breath then let it out. "Could you just...call him a few times for me? See if he'll answer your calls?" His words were slow and very french-oriented, but John got the memo and pulled out his phone. He clicked on recents and hit Alexander's contact name.

The phone was picked up almost immediately.

"Hey, you kn—"

"Yeah. I'm aware. I'm late. That's my bad. I'm on my way, so do not fret, my dear J. Oh, that rhymed!"

John rolled his eyes, chuckling as he heard excessive shuffling from the other end.

"I'll see you in a bit."

John looked at Gilbert nodding and smiling. "He'll be here in a few."

-

"A whole forty-five minutes late. Fortunately, just in time for your photoshoot. Impressive." John joked, crossing his arms next to the shorter man, who held a plate full of small pleasantries of food.

Alexander turned his head up and scoffed.

"I was late because you wanted to stay on call all night. What are you? A high-schooler?"

John shrugged, grabbing a piece of a small brownie off of Alexander's plate.

"What can I say? I like the sound of your voice."

Needless to say, Alexander was slightly taken aback by that statement.

In all honesty? John was shocked that even came out of his mouth. But, fuck. Now he had to roll with it.

"You...do?"

Fuck.

"I mean, yeah. It's nice and soothing."

Fuck, this was so awkward. Fuck, what'd he do?

"Thanks...that's like—the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me, holy shit."

"That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to you? I could literally think of a million more nice things about you." John's voice was much more confident than it was a moment ago. His face no longer flushed and his throat was no longer dry.

"J, please. Shut the hell up." Alexander joked, his cheeks were now tinted a light color pink.

"What? It's true!" John exclaimed, "I could probably sit here all day and list off things."

Alexander was silent. His eyes were focusing on anything but John.

"You're at a loss of words? How shocking." John poked at the short man. "Do you want me to list off the reasons or not? Because I so will." The blond was quite content with how well he was conversing. He had been surprised by his boldness. It felt that something had just clicked, and here he was. Flirting with the man he had feelings for.

John went in to make another affectionate and flirtatious remark but stopped before the words could even form.

"Why not? Feel free to tell me about it—but why not over dinner? Later tonight. My treat, I assure you."

A double-whammy.

Well, not really. He couldn't really call it that. Now he had dinner with Alexander, but truly, the only set-back was that Alexander was now cocky and John had lost his bold demeanor.

"Mh. I think Gil's calling you. It's best you go now. Give you some time to think of tonight and what you want to wear."

"I haven't even agreed to go," John argued.

"Well, you do—don't you?"

John's throat was dry once more. He nervously brought up his knuckles and cracked them.

"Well, of course, I do, but—"

"Great! I'll see you then."

John reluctantly walked away, his ears burning like fire, and his cheeks red. He walked towards his colleague who was clicking through his camera.

"You called?" John muttered.

Gilbert stared at him with a perplexed facial expression.

"No. I didn't," he said firmly. "Why is your face so red?" Gilbert glanced behind John, barking out a laugh.

"Was it Alexander?"

John smacked his friend on the side of his arm, signaling for him to lower his voice, or shut up.

"I hate to admit it, but I'm, unfortunately, head over heels for that cocky bastard."


	2. prideful: [angst].

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW // homophobia, and brutalization. please be aware!

June 20th, 1969.  
New York, NY.  
3:48 AM.

"Please!" Alexander yelled. He was in hysterics. He watched helplessly as his lover was being brutalized right in front of his eyes. They showed no mercy. They had followed the two men for blocks, they were determined. And for what? Exactly what were those assholes gaining from this?

Alexander's pleas were drowned out by the men's laughter. He screamed and thrashed around on the cold pavement as two men kept him down with their feet. One placed right on the side of Alexander's face, turned enough to see his helpless lover, and another on his abdomen.

He felt excruciating pain, but that didn't seem to matter. What only really mattered to him was John.

John. John. John. John.

His name kept repeating in Alexander's head. This didn't feel real, it couldn't be real. This wasn't happening, right? Of course, he never thought this kind of thing would ever happen to him or John. Fuck. He couldn't believe this.

Grunts and groans came from the blond as kicks and punches were delivered to him.

Death would be mercy at this point.

"Stop! Holy shit—please!" Alexander screamed out in agony. He squeezed his eyes closed as more pressure was put onto his face and abdomen. At this point, he had stopped thrashing. He was tired. Alexander was really tired. As much as he wanted to close his eyes and never open them again, he couldn't. For some reason the red-head just...couldn't.

"Would you shut the fuck up?" One of the men yelled over the top of Alexander's yelling. He was one of the four men who was brutalizing the couple.

"Please...anything! Anything! I have cash! About seventy dollars—take it and leave, I'm begging you!" Alexander tried to negotiate, but it didn't seem to work nor interest the man.

"I don't want any of your money. You...people are sick and perverted. I don't want to use a pervert's money. Maybe you could use it to fix yourself." The others laughed at their friend as he taunted Alexander.

John was slipping in and out of consciousness. His eyes were already almost swollen, and his nose looked broken. Alexander could hardly even recognize him. It was such a gruesome sight.

Tears streamed down Alexander's eyes. At this moment he just wanted to die. Part of him wished they would just kill him right now so he didn't have to see the man he loved suffer any longer.

When Alexander heard the click of a pocket-knife being opened, his heart began to beat fast in his chest. Faster than it had been and faster than it ever has and probably ever will. He was panicked. He was scared, and he was praying to God. Not necessarily something he would really ever do. Yet, here he was. Praying to the man that Alexander was taught growing up, hated people like him. Alexander was praying to the one man who he had hardly any faith in. The man who was shoved constantly in his face to try and justify hatred.

Praying to the one man who seemed to condemn him.

Alexander was whispering promises and fragments of verses that he remembered from his childhood and from John's prayers. He promised to God that if he just let John and him survive this he would dedicate his life to church and the Lord. That he would seek help for his sinful feelings. Alexander would part his ways with John and never speak to him again.

But, it was obvious God didn't care for his people. He should've seen it coming.

Alexander cried even harder when he heard John's blood-curdling scream and then a crack. A disgustingly loud crack. He knew what to expect when the men muttered profanities under their breaths and rushed out of the ally they had been in. The skidding and pattering of their feet echoing for a distance.

Part of Alexander wished that when he opened his eyes, he'd be anywhere but here. Yet, he wasn't.

When he opened his eyes he wasn't shocked, but still hysterical when he saw a lifeless John Laurens slumped over leaned up against a brick wall. Alexander slowly crawled over to him even as pain overtook him. He didn't hesitate to try to find a pulse, but he wasn't surprised when he didn't.

"J, please." Alexander's voice cracked.

Alexander held John tightly. Sobbing quietly as this reality without John set in.

Alexander stood up. He knew he couldn't stay. As much as he wished he could've, Alexander was fully aware he would get in trouble for John's murder.

Alexander staggered home, not caring if those men showed up again and finally finished him off and killed him. In fact, Alexander found himself hoping for that. This situation still didn't feel real, but he knew deep down, it unfortunately was.

God condemned him, and this—this was the price he had to pay.


	3. arguments: [angst].

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW // alcoholism and fighting! please be aware!

"I'm so fucking done helping you." Alexander hissed through gritted teeth. He wasn't sure about this engagement. He was seconding guessing his fiancé and their plans for the future.

"I never asked for your help." John bit back.

Alexander stared up at John, who was swaying slightly in between the doorway of their bedroom and the hallway. John wasn't going to remember any of this tomorrow. Alexander knew that. He'd bring it up, of course, and John would act like he knew what his fiancé was talking about, but he truly didn't.

It's been like this for a while now. almost a year. It was sudden. Out of the blue. Alexander had unfortunately grown accustomed to the mannerisms of...this new John in the evening. Always swaying, hair unkempt, and his speech slurred. He would never make sense, either.

Alexander had urged John to go to rehab, or AA, anything that could fix this, but he came up with excuses. Granted, he did go to AA for about two meetings.

"Please. I just—need you to fix this. I'm so willing to be with you every step of the way. Please, I can't stand this." The red-head mumbled. He rubbed his temples with his thumb and index finger. His head was pounding from this argument that had been dragging on.

"You just want me gone."

"No—no, I don't. I just want you to get better. I'm not gonna let you go through this alone, you know?" Alexander chuckled a bit. It was emotionless, almost sarcastic. There wasn't any humor in this situation.

"Yes, you do," John argued. "I'll leave for a few weeks and then next thing I know, you'll—you'll change the locks on the doors and you won't be here. I'm not stupid, Alexander."

"Oh my God!" Alexander yelled. How could John be so stupid? This wasn't the man he had fallen for. This wasn't the man he had planned to marry.

"You're fucking insane! I can't just...do that. I don't know how to! I wouldn't even have a place to stay without you finding me!" Alexander was getting heated. This is how it always went. He'd keep his composure and almost immediately it would be lost.

"You're smart. I'm sure you'd...find a way."

Alexander huffed out a laugh and a groan.

"Unbelievable!" He threw his hands up, and then they dropped back down to his side. "I can't argue with you. There's no goddamn point. You always get like this." Alexander pivoted his feet, turning away from John.

"All you do is argue! You like to argue when you get drunk!" Alexander raised his voice. He couldn't take it. He was tired of it. It took a toll on him. His relationships, his mental health, he suffered. He knew John suffered as well. Alexander wanted to help. He wanted John to get better, but it was hard. He was struggling to even make time for himself, to think about things.

"That isn't true—"

"It most definitely is!" Alexander interjected. "That's all you do! Don't deny it!"

"You know what? Fuck you! Fuck you!" John squeezed his eyes shut, the lights in the bedroom hurting his eyes. He pointed at Alexander, who just stared back at him.

"You're just trying to pin this on me! It's ridiculous!"

"Yeah! Because you're the one continuing to get drunk! I've tried to help you! It's obvious you really don't give a shit!" He had enough. This isn't what he wanted. These weren't the memories he wanted to make with John.

Alexander stomped to the nightstand by the bed, grabbing his phone and charger.

"J, move."

"Tell me where you're going."

"No. It's not your business. Move. I'll be back in the morning."

"You're being unfair."

"Goddamnit—J, you're acting like a literal child! I'm not being unfair! If anyone's being unfair right now it's you! Now fucking move, damnit!" The redhead angrily shrieked.

John's face contorted into hurt, but Alexander didn't seem to care. He wanted out. He wanted to leave. Eventually, he shoved by John, rushed down their stairs, and swiftly grabbed his and John's car keys. John stared down at him from the middle of the steps.

"What're you doing with my keys? I have work tomorrow."

"I'll be back before you go to work. If I'm not, take the bus. I don't want you doing anything stupid while I'm gone." He slammed the door behind him. Alexander let out a deep breath. It was shaky and he felt tears spring into the corner of his eyes. He sprinted to his car, closing the door and starting it up. Alexander watched as his home slowly became smaller and smaller by the second.

-

"Hey. Yeah, hi. It's Alex—I know you're probably asleep right now, Herc, but I really need your help. I'm stuck. I don't know what to do. Call me back when you have the chance. Appreciate it, bye."

Alexander threw his phone on the passenger seat beside him. His hands stayed steady on his wheel as he stared ahead of him, cars speeding by his.

He couldn't think anymore. He just felt numb. He felt like a loser. That he had lost this battle. Who did he piss off? Why was this happening to him?

John had tried to call him. Alexander ended up blocking his number. Of course, he worried about his fiancé, but he wanted to put himself first. Alexander needed time for himself. He needed to set his priorities straight.

Alexander grabbed his phone again. It hadn't even been five minutes from when he had first called Hercules, but he needed somewhere to stay. He called again.

"Xander?" A soft, groggy voice came from the other side of the phone. It wasn't Hercules, but it was his wife, who was close enough.

"Liz! Hey." He wiped the tears that he didn't notice until now away. "I—I need a place to stay for the night. J and I...got into a fight. I left and...yeah." Alexander's voice was quiet. He felt ashamed over something he shouldn't have.

The other end was almost silent, with a few whispers and shuffling.

"Alex?" It was Hercules now. "Everything all right? Is John okay? Are you?" Questions spilled out of Alexander's friend's mouth.

"Yeah—yeah, no. I'm fine. J's okay as far as I'm aware. I just...I can't face him right now. We got into this big argument and I left. I need somewhere to stay. And—and I know! This isn't ideal and please—!"

"Alex, you can stay."

Alexander swallowed. "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Alexander's throat was dry and hoarse. Tears spilling. He wept and didn't care that his friend heard him.

"Thank you."

**Author's Note:**

> im still relatively new to posting stories to Ao3, so its a bit confusing to me, but yeah!! :)


End file.
